Destiny's Weapon
by Bronze Cat
Summary: The Lion has fallen; the Four are scattered; Jadis is Queen and her allies will ensure it stays this way. There is no hope. Narnia is lost. Caelia stands alone. The Fall of Charn was only the beginning.
1. Welcome to Hell

**_*This story is a sequel to one called _Destiny's Instrument_ and will have some events and characters from one called _Checkmate._ Please at least read _DI_ before this other wise you will be horribly confused_!***

* * *

_Hell has three gates: lust, anger, and greed ~ _the Bhagavad Gita

* * *

The Infinite Plains of Hell stretched in all directions forever. Hence the moniker of Infinite. It was a foul and torturous place and the reluctant home of so many. To the lost souls, to those Damned to spend all eternity locked within its walls, it was always different. It shaped itself to fit each as it was needed. A personal Hell for all of them. To the many demons and abominations who resided there, it was a vast and empty plain. Yes, there were mountains and rivers of sulphur but there were no civilisations. The demons liked to gather in the ruins of Sodom and Gomorrah and the other cities that were cast down but they formed no societies.

Demon politics were worse than the petty games the mortals played in the worlds above. They answered only to their Mother and she paid them little attention. No, instead they raged in never-ending battles across the Infinite Plains; pledging allegiance to and then back-stabbing each other as easily as they breathed.

In the very centre of the Plains rose a tower of obsidian into the blood red sky. The demons actively avoided it when they could and it was the only feature of Hell the lost souls could truly discern; so twisted and terrified it was.

And tonight, the master of the tower was holding a dinner party. Because, what else are you supposed to do when you are imprisoned in Hell for all eternity?

Lucifer the Fallen raised his eyes to the sky and the roof of his prison. No matter how high he built the tower, the sky still rose.

He smiled. The sky still rose, but not for much longer. Soon he would have what he desired. Soon he would be free again and the world would tremble at his coming.

His guests waited below in the dining hall beneath his private chambers. Jadis, former Queen of Charn and Narnia, felt uncomfortable as she sat primly in her seat. She had been summoned to this tower where a minion had given her a dress. A stunning gown of white, just like she used to wear as a queen so long ago.

At least _she _was wearing a dress. The other woman was wearing something that nobody would ever describe as a dress. It was more of a sheet, really. The black filmy material left absolutely nothing to the imagination and it was cut so low it exposed more flesh every time she moved. And it wasn't even just the dress; an unmistakable sense of lushness and a coy invitation rolled off her like the most intoxicating perfume imaginable.

The door at the far end of the room opened and their host strode in.

"My dear ladies," he said, a smile curving around his handsome face. "Lilith," he said, entwining his hands through the other woman's long dark curls and lovingly rubbing her shoulders. "And Jadis," he said, lifting that charming gaze to her.

"Lucifer," Lilith replied huskily, lifting a hand to caress his cheek. Jadis jerked her head irritably.

"I gathered you two here tonight because I am about to embark upon a great journey and I want you to join with me as I begin," he said. He pulled his hands from Lilith's hair and moved round to the head of the table. "Too long have I been trapped here. Too long have we all been trapped here. But not for much longer."

His face darkened momentarily and then the cheerful smile was back as if it had never gone. A minion appeared and drifted around the table distributing drinks in silver goblets.

"Why us?" Jadis asked curtly.

"My dear lady, is it not obvious? We share a lust for revenge against those who wronged us," he said, smiling at her. "Lilith, the one who stole her husband; you, your darling sister; and me? I want revenge against the One they both serve. The One who abandoned me to this... this... this hellhole."

His hand closed upon his goblet and crushed it down into a twisted mess. The red wine dripped between his fingers and pooled on the table.

"We take Him first. He is the most difficult but once He falls, everything else will be so much easier."

"What you are suggesting? We find the Gates and hammer on them with our fists to be let out?" Jadis said. Lilith gave a silvery little laugh.

"Nothing quite so crude. There is a way but it will be difficult and the cost will be great. You do know that don't you?" she said sharply, directing that last to Lucifer.

He nodded. "Greater for them than for us however. And you forget the amount of power we three hold. A Will of Royal Charn, the First of Man and the First of the Firsts. Hardly three novice conjurers scrabbling through their beings for the tiniest trickle of magic."

"It is still difficult," she said firmly.

"And as I said," he said, a note of irritation creeping into his tone, "once He falls, everything else will be so much easier."

His pale blue eyes moved between them and he smiled again. Oh how charming he was.

And Jadis had been missing her dear sister. Caelia had been allowed to languish in comfort for far too long. How nice it would be to see her again.

"Fine. I'm in," she said.

"You know you have my support," Lilith added. He stood and offered a hand to each of them.

"Come. Let us begin."

* * *

Far away and in another world, three voices echoed down a woodland path. The owners of the voices were some one hundred metres behind and laughing merrily as they walked along.

"I can't believe you! You never listen, you never learn! How often were we told not to drink from the cup?" Caelia giggled. Uriel winced and ran a hand through his bright red hair.

"How was I to know it was symbolic?" he said sheepishly. "_Here, you shall imbibe the power and strength of our greatest warriors,_ the Chief had said; what was I supposed to do?"

"Pay attention to Caelia and me and simply inhale the scent of the blood like Metatron told us to?" Gabriel smiled as Caelia broke off into fresh peals of laughter.

Uriel's embarrassed grin faded and horrible realisation flooded across his face.

"Oh, dear. The bookworm is not going to be pleased with me for screwing this one up. And I believe Michael won't be best pleased with me either," he moaned. Caelia sniggered and linked arms with both of them.

She didn't know how much time had passed since the troubles in Narnia. All she knew was she was blissfully happy. She had a home, a family and a vocation and she loved all three passionately. Even the last words of Jadis could not mar this delight. Sometimes, when she sat up late at night, Caelia would remember that final confrontation at the Gates of Hell and dread would run through her.

_This shall __**never**__ be over between us, _Jadis had promised and her promises were not easily broken. On those nights, Caelia was afraid. She was so afraid that she would wake up and this would all be a dream. She would awaken in some grubby tavern in rural Sorlois and return to exile. A lost Princess walking a world that hated her and her family. A world where her sister was Queen; the prospect which scared her most of all.

But as soon as she heard Uriel's laugh, or entered the Library to see Metatron bent over a book, she would remember that her sister was dead and trapped in Hell. Nothing could disturb this happiness.

Or so she thought.

A wind picked up and scattered the leaves of the path along under their feet. She stopped and dropped their arms. The two of them drew away from her as she looked behind. That wind had been ice-cold and she had never felt such a thing in her Master's land before.

An uneasy feeling coiled through her stomach. She turned back to her friends and opened her mouth.

The earthquake came from nowhere. It threw Caelia off her feet and smacked her against a tree. Leaves were thrown into the air and the frailer trees crashed into the path. Caelia rolled to one side quickly before one could land on her. It barely missed her. She kept rolling, praying for both her safety and for an end.

The tremor vanished as quickly as it had struck. She lay still for a moment to check that she wasn't hurt and then sat up to take stock of her surroundings. Trees and fallen branches lay all over the path. She breathed out shakily and was surprised to see her breath rise before her. It was cold, so cold. Her Master's world was a warm country where the sun shone and the sky was blue. The sky visible through the trees above was grey and overcast. The lack of sunlight made everything feel so much more close and suffocating.

"Uriel? Gabriel?" she called.

No answer.

She stood and climbed over the fallen tree that had nearly crushed her. They hadn't been that far ahead of her. Had they been hit by another tree? She walked a few steps up the path but her eyes saw no telltale scrap of white cloth or wisps of red or white-blonde hair beneath the branches.

"Uriel? Gabriel?" she called again. "Where are you?"

Again, there was no answer.

"This isn't funny!" she shouted angrily. When no grinning face appeared, fear flooded through her. Her pace picked up and before long she was running and screaming the names of her friends in a blind panic. She saw nobody. On the path from the forest to her Master's Citadel they would usually meet someone on some errand but there was nobody. No-one at all.

Into the Citadel she flew, crying out for her Master, for Michael, for Raphael, for anyone! Up and down stairs and through passageways she ran. There was nobody. The Citadel was as quiet as a tomb. She skidded to a halt by a window and gazed out over the land. This grey light cast an air of despair across the usually welcoming white buildings of the Citadel.

And it was cold. It was so cold. She shivered as that cold wind blew again. She pulled her golden cloak against her arms as the hair rose on the back of her neck. What was wrong?

Her eyes fell on the shining white of the Library. If there were answers to this frightening situation, they would be there.

Her shoes rapped on the marble floors of the Library as they always did but today it felt empty and unsettling. The air inside was still and cold. The shelves which stretched from floor to ceiling usually pressed in around her and made her feel safe and protected. Today that closeness was suffocating. Shadows stretched in every corner of the Library and she jumped at each one. The tremor had sent the books tumbling from their shelves. So many lives lay scattered across the floor. She picked her way through the mess as best she could but it was hard going.

From some aisle to the side of her she heard a thump and a groan. Metatron was sitting on the floor surrounded by books with a rag pressed to a bleeding temple. He looked around as she appeared and his face broke into one of pure relief.

"Caelia, child!" he exclaimed.

"Metatron!" she all but wept and ran straight into his spread arms. He hugged her tight and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I thought I was the only one left," he murmured.

"What's happened? Where is everyone?" she cried. "Uriel and Gabriel seemed to vanish!"

He let her go.

"I do not know; I have never felt anything like that in all my life. That tremor was not natural. There was magic deep in there," he said. His eyes snapped back to hers. "Come, we must check the books."

They each took a stack of books and began to flick through looking for anything. Something was definitely wrong. Each life she looked at seemed to have been slightly altered but she could not find the link. Nothing seemed to connect them.

She reached out to take another. Her hand closed upon the red leather of the book of Narnia. She paused and then heaved it open to where she had last seen writing.

"Metatron," she said shakily. "Half of Narnian history is gone."

"What! Impossible!" he said and hurried around the table to look. She turned the blank pages.

"The last thing I read was Eustace and Jill returning to their world! Look, I folded the corner of the page over!"

She touched the folded piece of parchment reverently. The page had once been covered in letters and words describing the doings of the people of the world. Now it was blank, awaiting a fate that was yet to be written.

He took it from her and turned back through the book. His expression darkened and his usually kind face became very ugly. He turned and marched towards the room with the world dishes. She paused and then hurried after him.

"This is impossible!" he shouted over his shoulder. "The whole of Narnia has been pulled out of its time-stream!"

He stormed through the doorway of the worlds' room and she nearly slammed into him as he stopped in his tracks.

The rest of the Library was nothing compared to the carnage in here.

There had once been a mysterious box of obsidian set into the wall but it had been completely destroyed from the inside out. The debris spread out in a wide arc across the room. There was not a single world that had not been touched by the explosion. Every bowl was either cracked or coated in obsidian dust and the water inside was murky and lifeless. The world that had been locked inside the box was still intact. Sulphur poured out of the narrow gap in the wall, causing Caelia to cough and hold her sleeve up to her mouth and nose.

Metatron walked slowly through the wreckage towards the world in the box. He didn't flinch as it spat a shower of sparks at him. He gazed at it almost sadly and then turned away with a roar of anger.

She tried to step towards him but he threw out a hand.

"No! Don't come any closer!" he commanded.

"Metatron, what's happened? What is that place? What _caused_ all this!" she wailed, sobs rising in her chest.

"_Them_. They did this!" he spat with a wild gesture at the hole in the wall. "But _how? _That place is supposed to be impregnable!And why were you not taken by whatever monstrosity it was that they invoked!"

"Well, why weren't you taken?" she said.

He gave a hollow, empty laugh. "There is no force in the entirety of Creation that can make me leave this Library. My duty and my purpose lies here by command of the Emperor and not even He Himself can overrule it!"

His face was swathed in shadow and she had never seen him look so menacing. It made shivers run down her spine.

Suddenly he turned and came at her. She flinched back but all he did was grab her wrists.

"You must go, Caelia," he said firmly. "My heart says they will be in Narnia; and the way that world's history is being overwritten would suggest I am correct. Go there and search for any sign of our companions. Anything at all! Find the others; find Aslan; find our Master!"

Her mouth open and shut uselessly. "But, but, buh," she stammered. He cupped her cheek.

"Please, Caelia! We are the only two left and we can't give up. We must fight!"

She quickly gathered a few supplies. It wasn't much at all really, just enough to fill a small satchel. As she swung her golden cloak back onto her shoulders, Metatron handed her something small wrapped in a velvet bag.

"Don't open it," he said. "You will know when to."

She nodded and slipped it in without a second thought. All her mind was taken with this impossible task Metatron had set her and the gravity of their situation. How could the Emperor be gone?

What could possibly be strong or wild enough to take Him, take all of them?

"Metatron, I can't."

"Yes, you can. Have faith, Princess, and stand strong," he said, holding her close. "You must go soon. The time between the worlds is different enough as it is but the longer you stay here the longer they have to corrupt Narnia. You must get there; and get there soon!"

"Why can't you come with me?!"

"I told you, I cannot leave the Library! Besides, I am better off here; I can try to mend some of the damage to the other worlds and I can stop the spread of decay from Narnia. That is the centre of all this... this mess. This disaster."

She stared deep into his blue eyes and saw his fear. He was terrified and that scared her most of all. The Emperor was a great and driving force for them all but, with Him taken, His world was cold and empty and they were lost. Sheep without a shepherd; children with no parent. This was bigger than anything she had ever faced before and she did not know if she had the resolve to fight without Uriel and Gabriel by her side. How could she fight without the guidance of Michael or Raphael?

How could she fight without her Master?

"I'll try," she said. "But who are _they? _Who are we fighting against?"

"Those we have condemned to Hell," he said in a hollow voice. "They have broken the Gates and they are running free through Creation. The Damned have come to seek their revenge and only we two are left to stand against their onslaught."

This was it. The line had been drawn in the sand. This Citadel, this small bubble of utopia, had been spoiled and corrupted and it was no longer safe. Here she was, trying to gather her nerves to fight against some evil she could not put a face to.

But there was one she knew. One she was certain would be at the heart of this.

That final, grossly macabre image of Jadis as she was sucked through the Gates of Hell flooded into her mind's eye and her last words to Caelia played again and again in her head.

_This shall __**never**__ be over between us, Sister Dear!_

No. It would seem it had only just begun.

* * *

**OK, here we go. Let's get this show on the road. Settle down, we have a very long way to go and the path is not easily tread.**

**Firstly, I am very shortly due to start at University. I am determined to keep writing, even if it is only for maybe half an hour every few days. Therefore, new chapters across all my stories are going to be very irregular so please be patient.  
**

**I've also decided to put a quote at the beginning of each chapter which vaguely ties in with the content of each chapter. Some are from books or songs I like and some are just things I've found on the internet and liked. This chapter's is from the **_**Bhagavad Gita**_, **a book of the _Mahabharata_ which is one of the two major Sanskrit epics of ancient India_. _I thought it fitted our three main antagonists pretty well; Lilith is lust, Jadis is anger and Lucifer is greed (although all three can apply to each of them in their own right).**

**One note, I used Alex Pettyfer to represent Lucifer in the cover because he is a pretty boy. If I had to put an actor to my representation of Lucifer, Cillian Murphy wins hands down but I couldn't find a good enough picture to put in the cover. Tilda Swinton is Jadis, Natalie Dormer is _exactly _how I picture Lilith and Katie McGrath is Caelia.**

***SUPER-MEGA-AWESOME DISCLAIMER* I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia or any of its characters or locations mentioned within this story; nor do I own the words of the quotes which shall appear at the beginning of each chapter. I am making no profit whatsoever from this and even if I did own Narnia, it would never turn out the way it will here. This is written purely for fun and will be fairly AU. Please remember that if you want to return to the real Narnia and not the one portrayed here, all you have to do is click off this screen and pick up one of the books. :)  
**


	2. A World of Ice and Snow

_I wish I could tell you how lonely I am. How cold and harsh it is here. Everywhere there is conflict and unkindness. I think God has forsaken this place. I believe I have seen hell and it's white, snow-white ~ _Elizabeth Gaskell, _North and South_

* * *

Last time she had been here it had been summer. The woodland paths were green and welcoming and everything had been at peace. She had felt safe here, once.

Now was completely different. Narnia was once again locked in Jadis' winter and Caelia could barely recognise it. She shivered and tried to pull her cloak closer against her skin. Last time she had been here, her Will had burned inside her like a little flame and kept her warm. Now it felt more like a guttering candle. She always relied on her Will to keep her warm. Her dress and cloak were really quite thin and were no protection against the cold.

She waded through yet another snow drift and paused to take stock of her surroundings. An icy wind blew from the north causing her to shiver.

She had absolutely no idea where she was. The geography of Narnia in summer was confusing enough as it was but it was near impossible with everything coated in snow.

It was so cold. She could feel neither her fingers nor her toes and she was tired and afraid and so, so cold. How long had she been in Narnia? It was always difficult to work out the time difference between the worlds but it felt especially difficult today. Her mind was so sluggish and dull that it was becoming difficult to even lift her feet and take the next step into the snow.

Suddenly one foot failed to lift and she fell face-first into the snow. She lay there for a moment, the snow tickling her cheek.

"Have... have to get up," she said groggily. "Must keep movin'..."

She tried to push herself up on her arms but her strength left her and she collapsed straight back down. _Alright,_ she thought as her vision began to fade to black. _I'll rest for a while. Just for a moment..._

* * *

The water slapped her mercilessly. She was viciously dragged back into consciousness as she coughed and choked. The water was everywhere; her eyes, her nose, down her throat. She tried to wipe it away but realised with horror that her arms were restrained and pulled above her head by manacles and a chain.

"Wakey-wakey! Don't you know it is rude to sleep in when the rest of the household is awake?" a voice said playfully.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to clear the water from them. The figure in front of her came into focus. She was a young woman maybe a few years older in appearance than Caelia. Her long, dark curls hung loosely over her pale shoulders and around her cruelly beautiful face. She smirked and swung the empty bucket in her hands.

"Do you need another? I think you do!" she said gleefully. "You don't look properly awake yet!"

"Nuh!" Caelia mumbled and tried to scramble away. Her legs scuffed uselessly on the floor and, with her arms chained above her, she could not grab anything to help pull herself upright.

The dark-haired woman laughed silkily and threw the bucket at her. It barely missed her, instead clanging off the wall just to the left of her. She squirmed again and a low sob escaped her as she struggled.

She recognised this place. The icy walls, the chains, the ogres standing roughly to attention outside the door; there was only one place where she could be.

"I didn't know she was such a coward," the dark-haired woman called as another entered the tiny room.

Caelia now began to sob in earnest and turned her face away into her arm. A pale hand gripped her chin and she was pulled around to stare directly into Jadis' eyes.

"Hello, Sister Dear! I was beginning to wonder if you would ever show your pretty face here again," Jadis said with false kindness. "I hope you like your quarters. I had them outfitted for you specially."

"What have you done?!" Caelia whispered.

"We rescued you! Poor little bird lying in the snow all frozen and blue... Much too quick a death for you," the other woman said.

"No, she means what have we done to Narnia," Jadis said over her shoulder. "She is one of the Emperor's Folk after all. Always meddling when things don't fit with their picture of the world."

She turned back to her sister with another false smile.

"Caelia, this is Lilith," she said as if she was talking to a child. "She is my friend and she is going to help me. We are going to make Narnia into the perfect country. You see, we were very clever and we did a big spell that reversed Time itself!"

"You tore apart Creation!" Caelia screeched, finding her voice all of a sudden. "You smashed the Gates of Hell and dragged Narnia out of its timestream!"

"Now, now, don't scream," Lilith said. "We may have changed a few things and everything is so much better now! Jadis is still a Queen and that troublesome Lion has gone _poof!_"

She waved her hand to demonstrate.

"And because we went back in time," Jadis added, "technically dear Edmund never smashed my wand. So my Will is still intact! And now we can make Narnia into a perfect country like I was going to do with our homeworld! Charn was the greatest city that ever was but I will make Narnia the greatest _country_ that there ever will be."

She smiled at Caelia as fear coursed through the latter's veins. The final image of the gale the Deplorable Word wrought upon Charn and the agony that had burned through Caelia all flooded back to her in a single moment and she spasmed wildly. Jadis let go of her face and stood back, watching her through narrowed eyes.

"Where are they? What have you done with them?" she snarled.

"I take it you mean the Pevensie brats?" Lilith asked. She exchanged a look with Jadis.

"They've been better," she sniggered and they both laughed coldly.

"If you have harmed one hair on their heads..." Caelia said.

"You'll do what? Kill us?" Jadis pouted. "I don't think so."

Lilith linked arms with her and together they walked back towards the door.

"Sit back and relax, sister," Jadis said before they left. "Consider the precious time you have left and remember those you once loved. I've bested your champions, your friends and your Masters. And soon, I'm going to kill you. Properly this time."

She laughed with Lilith again and the two of them left her alone. She watched as the water still on her dress turned slowly to frost. Her breath rose in small spirals from her mouth. She didn't move but her mind was a frenzy of thoughts.

The Pevensies weren't dead. She was sure that was a bluff on their part. So if they weren't dead then they were either here somewhere or yet to come!

No, they couldn't be yet to come. Narnia and the world of Man were now completely out of sync. If she understood correctly, Narnia was trapped in a little bubble of its own. Oh, please they could be far enough in Narnia history that the Pevensies were here. She needed something to give her hope. Anything; anything at all.

_"Caelia..."_

Her head shot up. Was that?

She listened closely but there was nothing but the sound of her own breath. But she could not have been wrong. She tried to stand again but she couldn't find any grip on the icy floor.

Her eyes closed and she reached down inside her. There was her Will, coming and going in uneven pulses. She waited. Slowly she began to get a feel for when it was at its strongest. On one of these strong pulses she hurled her Will out and at the locks of her manacles. One clicked and her arm dropped. She shook it to try to work out some of the numbness and waited for the next crest of Will. It came and the other lock clicked open.

With a weary sigh, she flexed both arms and climbed shakily to her feet. This was crazy. If she was caught then who knows what Jadis and Lilith would do to her.

Yet it was a risk she would have to take. She picked up her satchel from where it had been discarded in a corner and turned her attention to the guard outside the cell door.

"Hey, ugly!" she called. The ogre outside turned round and stared at her. "I think you need some new restraints," she said mockingly.

The ogre grunted and unlocked the door of the cell. She took a deep breath and then thrust a hand forward. Her Will shot out and caught the ogre full in the chest. It slipped backwards with a snarl.

She hesitated and then ran past, slamming the cell door behind her.

As she hurried along, her mind kept turning over what had happened. Her Will was definitely diminished somehow. Usually she would be able to throw things back a good few feet; not knock them over! And there was this strange rising and falling of her Will. What was wrong with her?

How long did she have before the ogre roused the other guards?

She tried to find an escape route as best she could from what she remembered of Jadis' Palace. It was made worse by all the statues. She thought every one of them was an enemy. By pure luck she met no-one and she slipped into the main courtyard.

The golden cloak must have looked so conspicuous as she slipped between the statues. She could not believe that she had got so far without an alarm being raised. Was Jadis so confident that she could afford to be so lax in security?

No, there was a wolf and he lay right in front of the outer gate. She hid behind a statue of a centaur and watched him. He appeared to be asleep but it could just be an act. Dare she risk it? She was already exhausted once again by the relatively short run from the dungeons to here. She must have been lying in the snow for longer than she thought.

"_Caelia..."_

The voice came again just as she steeled herself to run. This time it was much louder and came from behind her.

She turned slowly and followed it into a small alcove off the main courtyard. Nothing was here but four poplar trees. Four...'

"_Caelia,_" the disembodied voice said again.

"Michael?" she asked in a tiny voice. She laid a hand against the greatest of the trees and felt the living presence within. "Michael?" she repeated. "Raphael? Gabriel? Uriel? Is it you?"

"_Wotcher, Caels,_" Uriel's voice said sadly. "_Nice of you to visit."_

"What happened?" she said, her voice breaking.

"_We were pulled from our world. That tremor was the aftershock of the Spell they used to break free and it took us... and our Masters," _Gabriel told her. "_We were trapped here and we don't have a clue where our Masters were taken._"

"Metatron is trying to find a solution," she said. Michael chuckled darkly and the leaves of his tree moved slightly despite there being no wind.

"_You will need to help too, Caelia. Find the Pevensie children. I am sure they are here somewhere."_

She sank down into the snow. "I don't know if I can," she said. "Ever since I got here, my Will has not been the same. It doesn't flow as freely as it once did."

_"That may be due to your connection with the Emperor,_" Raphael suggested. "_He blessed you and that blessing changed the nature of your Will. With Him absent, you are no longer touched by His blessing."_

"So, I'm weak?" she asked.

_"Caelia, you are anything but weak. Find the Pevensies and give your sister a kick up the arse from me," _Uriel said.

"_Come here a moment," _Raphael said. She crawled over to his tree and placed her hand against it. Her palm warmed slightly even as frost began to creep up the tree trunk.

"_You are very physically weak at the moment. I am giving you a little bit of energy so you can escape,_" Raphael told her. "_You will need to rest again soon._"

A warning bell sounded from deep inside the Palace and she scrambled to her feet.

"_Run, Caelia! They know you have escaped!" _Michael said hurriedly. "_Seek the Firsts; they will help you find the Pevensies!"_

"The Firsts?" she said, glancing back towards the four trees. Their branches were all trembling now.

"_No time to explain! Run!" _Michael thundered. She looked up at them one final time.

"I will find a way to free you," she said softly and then sprinted towards the gate. The wolf reared up at her in a snarl of teeth and claws but she flipped it away, gasping with the effort it took. Across the causeway and into the forest she ran; never stopping, never looking behind. Whether Jadis sent creatures after her she did not know. All her energy was thrown into keeping her legs moving. She had to run. She had to get away. She had to find the Firsts, whatever they were, and she had to find the Pevensies. She had to stop Jadis.

Eventually she began to slow again. Soon she was stumbling along once again frozen and disorientated. She pushed branches out the way carelessly as she ploughed ahead. The temperature was dropping fast. She needed to find shelter.

As she pushed aside another branch, her foot caught in a root hidden somewhere under the snow. She went head over heels down a slope with a shriek. She landed with a thump in a drift and was still.

* * *

"Why did you bring her in here?"

"The poor thing would have died if we left her out there!"

"We _should _have left her. Look at her face! This is a trap, mark my words!"

The voices seemed far away and fuzzy. Caelia shifted under the heavy blanket and opened her eyes.

"Ah, you are awake," a pleasant voice said. She looked around and saw a smiling and familiar face.

"Mrs Beaver!" she exclaimed and tried to sit up. Mrs Beaver pushed her back onto the makeshift bed with a firm paw.

"There, dear, rest a while longer. You had a nasty tumble," she said.

"How did she know who you were? I'm telling you, it's a trap!" an irritated voice said from the other side of the cosy little room. Caelia could just about make out Mr Beaver sitting in the shadows nursing a mug of beer.

"Well, really. The girl has a brain," Mrs Beaver said coldly. "She can see I'm a Beaver as plain as day."

Mr Beaver sat forward into the firelight and peered at Caelia. His fur was unkempt and his eyes had the haze of a permanent drunkard.

"She's the Witch's spawn, I'm telling ya!" he said. "Give it a few more hours and all her horrible lot will be tearing both us and this house apart!"

"Mr Beaver, you cannot judge me due to an unfortunate familiar resemblance and an accident of birth! I am nothing like Jadis!" Caelia insisted.

"So you are the Witch's spawn!" he crowed. She pushed the blanket off her and sat up, despite Mrs Beaver's protests.

"I am her younger sister, actually. And I'm a servant of the Emperor-Across-The-Sea; I'm here to help!"

The Beavers looked at each other.

"You are a bit late, dear. The Witch has been ruling Narnia for over one hundred years," Mrs Beaver said.

"It all happened rather suddenly, I'm afraid," Caelia said weakly. "But can you maybe help me? I'm looking for four children. Peter, Susan, Edmund-"

"And Lucy," Mr Beaver said in a strained voice. His paws were shaking violently and his eyes were even more unfocused. Caelia didn't notice. She sat forward with her eyes blazing with fresh hope. They were here, they were alive! Everything was going to be fine; her champions were alive!

"Do you know them? Where are they? I must speak with them!" she gabbled. Neither Beaver answered her. Mrs Beaver crossed the room and laid a tentative paw on her husband's shoulder.

"Yes, I know them," Mr Beaver said in a low voice. "I met them outside Mr Tumnus' house and they came here and we fed them and the little git Edmund ran off to see your sister."

She edged closer to him. "Where are they? Did you send them on to the Stone Table?"

Now they were both staring at her as if she had grown an extra head. She sat back and looked between them again.

"Is that where they are? Have they gone to Aslan?" she asked tentatively.

Mr Beaver gave a horrible choke of a laugh.

"Aslan?! Now you really are speaking rubbish! You don't have a clue, do you?" he said.

The hope died inside her as she looked between them. What were they talking about? What had happened?

Mr Beaver edged closer to her and gave her a horribly sad smile.

"Those kiddies arriving? Aslan's disappearance?" he said. "It all happened ten years ago."

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews last chapter guy! :)**

**Chapters 3 and 4 are written but require some editing. Hopefully they can be put up sort of soon. **

**The quote from the beginning I found on _Goodreads_. I'm a bit dubious about that website (I've read some nasty stories about it) but it is brilliant for finding quotes. I think I wanted a quote about loneliness and it gave me a massive amount, including the one from the start here which I found very appropriate. **

**So, I obviously know what has happened to the Pevensies but what do you think has happened to them? Let your imagination run wild! :D**


	3. The Events of Ten Years Previous

_It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but, for others I can kill. ~ _Emilie Autumn, _The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls_

* * *

This small part of Narnia was serene and calm. The hulking mass of the Witch's Palace in the distance drove away anyone thinking of making a home here so it still retained its relative natural beauty. Anything touched by the shadow of the Palace became as still as lifeless as the building itself but the rest was vibrant and beautiful in all its winter glory.

Yet something felt wrong.

Far away a Spell had been wrought; a Spell that had blasted through worlds and sent tremor after tremor rippling through Creation. And this small place, and the moment that was about to occur, was where the Spell attacked Narnia.

"Edmund!" Lucy screamed as they crested the small hill.

"Shh, they'll hear ya!" Mr Beaver yelped. His heart started to beat faster. They would have heard that for certain. The wolves had some of the sharpest ears in Narnia and they weren't stupid.

Peter paused and then sprinted onwards, down the hill. _No!_

"Come on!" he yelled over his shoulder as he ran. _No, no, no, you stupid Son of Adam!_

"No!" Mr Beaver finally screamed, lunging to grab Lucy. He was too slow; she and Susan were already running after their older brother, leaving the beaver lying in the snow alone.

He stared after them, his paws opening and closing uselessly on the snow, and felt the despair rising inside him.

"No," he repeated, a tear rolling down his face, as the last hopes of Narnia ran on towards the Witch's house.

He should have moved faster. He should have stopped them.

But the damage was done. Unknown to Mr Beaver, the future that should have been was ripped away in an instant. The future that grew in its place would be so much worse than anything they could imagine.

* * *

The hours slowly ticked by. The cool twilight plummeted into freezing night. Mr Beaver had long returned to his dam. No words from his wife could bring him any comfort. The only solace he found was in his kegs of ale. That first sip would be the slippery slope down into an alcoholism that, together with the image of them running away from him, would plague him for over ten years.

The little glade was its serene calm once again. Just for a little while.

Mr Tumnus ran, bounding through the trees as fast as he was able to. They had to get away, get far way!

Lucy stumbled beside him and fell headlong on the ground with a cry. Tumnus skidded to a halt and crouched down beside her.

"My ankle!" she gasped, clutching it.

"Right, ok then!" he said, feeling it. Edmund stopped too and looked at them. His young face was completely twisted with despair and guilt.

"We can't stop, she will be coming after us!" he said. Tumnus nodded hurriedly. He bit his lip. What to do, what to do? As he heard a wolf howl in the distance, he picked Lucy up and threw her over a shoulder.

"Come on!" he said, grabbing Edmund's hand. The boy didn't protest.

Together they ran, dodging trees and scrub plants and jumping logs and rocks. The wolf howled again, closer, and fear coursed through the faun. They were never going to make it.

Edmund's foot caught in a root. Down he went, dragging Tumnus and Lucy with him. The faun sprang back to his feet and yanked at the boy's hand but, whether from shock or just plain exhaustion, Edmund couldn't get back on his feet.

There was a snap from the other side of the clearing and Tumnus' head shot up. There was a man standing there, a great muscular man with curly brown hair and dark, clever eyes. He lifted a hand from his bow in peace.

"I mean you no harm!" he said. "I just want to help you, and help those two!"

"Why should I trust you? Who are you" Tumnus said, holding Lucy close.

"I serve the Emperor-Across-the-Sea!" the man proclaimed. "Please, trust me! My camp isn't far and we will be safe there. If you go on then they will catch you; you are leaving a trail a mile wide!"

Tumnus hesitated then nodded grimly as the wolf howled for a third time. The man rush forward. He lifted Edmund bodily onto his feet and then took Lucy from Tumnus.

"This way!" he said and strode off quickly in the direction he had come from.

He led them through the trees for a short distance until they arrived in another clearing. A small tent had been erected under the pines and a campfire was burning merrily. A woman emerged from the tent.

"What took you so long? I was worried..."

Her voice trailed off as she saw the motley four.

"I'm sorry, my love," the man said, shifting Lucy in his arms. "I found two of them with the faun. The little one has hurt her ankle."

He set her down by the fire and the woman crossed over to her. Lucy peeked at her from under her eyelashes as she massaged the sore ankle. She was in her early forties, like the man, and very beautiful. Her pale heart-shaped face was framed by soft brown hair and the small wrinkles at the corners of her violet eyes only seemed to add to her overall loveliness. She smiled kindly at the little girl.

"I think you will live," she said jokily.

"Who are you? Are we safe here?" Edmund asked. He sat down next to Lucy. Never had he felt so close to her; never had he wanted to just hug her and never let her go.

In the space of less than an hour, he had learned the true worth of family. And the lesson had cost them so much...

"I am the Hunter and this is my wife," the man said, placing his bow on a log and sitting next to it. "And you are perfectly safe here, my son. We shall keep away those that hunt you."

"For tonight at least," his wife said. "Our protection has its limits."

"And I'll kill anything that breaks through," the Hunter added, fingering his bowstring. His wife shot him an evil look.

She lifted the lid on a pot and stirred the stew inside. It smelled delicious. Edmund's stomach rumbled loudly and he remembered that he hadn't eaten for some hours. In fact, he hadn't eaten since before they went into the wardrobe; he had left the Beavers before they gave him food.

Soon a plate of stew was handed to him, and to Lucy and Tumnus as well, and he ate ravenously. It was excellent.

"How did you escape the Witch?" the woman asked, spooning more stew onto Edmund's plate.

"I'm not sure. I was able to escape my cell and I grabbed Lucy and Edmund and ran. It was a miracle that we didn't run into a guard," Tumnus said.

"And the older two?" the Hunter asked. Tumnus' shoulders sunk and he shook his head.

"I don't know. I saw them briefly when they were captured but they must have been held in a different part of the castle," he said sadly.

"Please, what will happen to them?" Lucy asked.

"I don't know, child. They may keep them alive in the hopes that they will act as bait for a rescue but, then again, they may kill them so the Prophecy can never come true," the woman said. "We shall have to hope it is the former."

Full of good food and, for now, feeling safe, the two remaining Pevensies lay against each other. Lucy's head was nodding as she tried to stay awake. Eventually she dozed off against Edmund. His eyes were glazed in the firelight, his arm wrapped protectively around his little sister.

The Hunter carried them both gently to the tent and returned to the fire. Silence fell in the small clearing as the two humans and the faun stared at the crackling flames.

"I suppose I should take them back to Spare Oom," Tumnus said eventually.

"No!" the Hunter said. "We shall need them to fight!"

"They are children!" Tumnus exclaimed. "They shouldn't be caught up in this mess in the first place!"

The Hunter and his wife looked at each other. They seemed to come to a voiceless agreement.

"Actually, they were always supposed to fight the Witch. The Prophecy does not pick and choose randomly; the four who came here this evening are the chosen four, the Prophecy's champions," the Hunter said. "Something's gone wrong though. Somewhere along the line a thread has become unravelled. Things weren't supposed to happen like this."

"How can you tell?" the faun asked, looking around nervously at the shadowy trees all around him. It still looked like Narnia; dark and dangerous and a mere memory of its former glory.

"Because we are here," the Hunter's wife said.

"Wife!" the Hunter snapped but she rode over him with a crass "I won't tell him everything, just what he needs to know!"

She turned back to Tumnus. "There is a power, a magic, that governs all worlds. You may know it here as the Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time. It kept us trapped in our world but now something has happened to it. It's somehow been corrupted and the barriers between the worlds have changed. It allowed us to cross into this world and when you have been around as long as we have, you can tell when something feels wrong. There has been a massive temporal shift here and the damage it wrought is still oscillating. And I would bet my life that it has something to do with the Witch and her new allies."

"So what can we do?" Tumnus asked. They didn't answer. "There must be something we can do! What about Aslan? He can help us!"

They looked at each other. The Hunter laid a hand over his wife's shaking hand and for a moment an air of mourning hung over the clearing.

"The Great Lion has fallen," the Hunter said sadly. "We don't know how and we don't know where but He is gone. The corruption they caused has taken Him."

"And the Emperor?" Tumnus asked. "You said you worked for the Emperor, will He help?"

"He's gone too," the Hunter said. He bowed his head, suddenly looking much older than he really was.

"His people will come looking for him," his wife added quietly. She lifted her eyes to Tumnus'. "We must keep Edmund and Lucy safe until they arrive. Help will come, Tumnus, we just have to wait until it does."

* * *

They set off early the next day. The Hunter led them through hidden paths through the trees, his hands always ready on his bow. His wife took the rear, her violet eyes scanning the forest for any movement as she erased their tracks. Edmund and Lucy stumbled along in between them, Tumnus alongside.

The going was slow, mainly due to Lucy's sprained ankle, but it seemed to Tumnus that they were heading in a south-westerly direction.

Their new companions were strange and he occasionally found himself doubting them. How was he to know that they weren't truly servants of the Emperor? He only had their word!

True, they were kind. But there was something hidden in the depths of their eyes. The woman had said that they were trapped in their world. The way she had said it, it almost sounded like they had been imprisoned.

Were they really safe with them?

By the third day, the woman's face was stony. She barely spoke as they packed up the camp and as the hours of trudging came and went her face became slowly darker and darker.

"We are going too slow," she said. In an instant, her husband's face became as dark as hers.

"We're making good time," he replied gruffly.

"Five is too many, darling! They are going to catch us!" she insisted.

He whirled round to face her.

"No," he said firmly.

"I can hide her where they will never think to look," she said sharply. "And you can sculpt him into the person he's supposed to be. Mr Tumnus will help."

"What are you talking about?" Tumnus said. He placed his hands on Lucy and Edmund's shoulders. "You can't split them up. They only have each other."

The Hunter was silent. "She's right," he said quietly. "My wife will take Lucy and I will take Edmund. Tumnus, you are welcome to join us or you can return to your home."

His wife bent down to Lucy's height and looked between Lucy and Edmund.

"You understand why we have to separate you, don't you? We have to hide you and keep you safe from the Witch and her friends. You are in danger if you stay together," she said to them.

"Do we have to?" Lucy whispered.

"Not if you don't want to. But you will be safer if you aren't together," she said.

Nobody spoke. Then Edmund hugged his sister.

"Look after her," he said to the woman.

"With my life," she said solemnly.

Her husband grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards him.

"And what about you?" he demanded. "You know she has it in for you; if she catches you then-"

"Then I am more than a match for her!" she said firmly. She kissed him. "Be careful, my love," she added.

Tumnus hugged Lucy tight.

"Goodbye, my little friend," he said.

"Watch Edmund for me," she said brightly and then took the woman's hand.

She met Edmund's gaze. In that single glance, the two youngest Pevensies conveyed many things. Love and affection, well-wishing, but most of all a desire for the other to survive. They were young but they understood the situation perfectly. If they were to ever see their brother and sister again, they would have to fight.

"Where are we going?" Lucy asked the woman as they walked away.

"Somewhere far away and safe. A place where they would never think to look for someone like you," she answered.

"Oh. What can I call you? I'm awfully sorry but I don't think I know your name."

The woman smiled at her. "You can call me Grandmother, I suppose."

Edmund watched his sister vanish amongst the trees with a heavy heart. The Hunter sighed deeply, also watching the two go.

"So long together, only to part like this," he said wearily. Then he straightened up and cast a disparaging eye over Edmund. "You aren't crying, are you boy?" he said coldly.

A few days ago, Edmund would have argued back. That tone was the one his teachers often used on him at school. He hated it; hated the way they looked down their noses at him and always compared him to Peter. Perfect Peter, golden-hearted and golden-headed; everyone's favourite and nothing Edmund could ever do would raise his own reputation in their eyes.

Even now after everything that had happened, he still would not bow meekly for this stranger.

"No!" he snapped defiantly.

"Good," the Hunter replied. "The hunter's second rule; never cry for what you have lost or killed. Chances are you have killed so many that if you start then you will never stop."

"What's the first rule?" Edmund asked.

The Hunter shrugged his pack off and dug inside. He extracted two short swords in worn scabbards and threw them at the boy and Mr Tumnus.

"Always know where your weapons are," he said, a twinkle in his eye. He heaved the pack onto his back.

"Come, I think we shall head West. It's time for your first lesson, my boy, and I think our friend the Faun here shall do much better than you. To move with through a forest with no sound, one needs stealth and agility..."

Tumnus followed the two as they began to creep through the trees again.

_Help will come,_ the Hunter's wife had told them.

By the Lion's Mane, please could it come quickly.

* * *

**Another quote I found on _Goodreads_ at the beginning. :)**

**So here we have what happened to Lucy and Edmund, hoho! Where on earth could they be going? And where are poor Peter and Susan? I suppose you shall just have to wait and see, won't you?**

**So, I am now officially a uni student! Woo! Updates may come a bit slower now. Apologies if there is anything wrong with this chapter. I'm in the middle of my Fresher's week and I am about to go for a nap so I can go out again tonight. Hopefully it makes sense. I'll read over it when I'm in a better state of mind but given that I wrote most of it feeling fine it should be ok.**


	4. The Fate of the Four

_He who controls the past controls the future. He who controls the present controls the past. ~ _George Orwell, _1984_

* * *

Caelia pulled her fingers through the powdery snow. She had never seen snow before she entered the service of the Emperor. Charn had had a warm and dry climate. It had been possible to fabricate a winter through the use of one's Will but that merely involved plunging the temperature down into freezing. Snow had never been seen and it still fascinated her; even if this was snow of Jadis' concoction.

The door to the dam opened behind her and spilled golden light across the moonlit snow.

"I've just about finished your new dress," Mrs Beaver said cheerily, "but I wanted to know what you want doing with this."

She held out Caelia's golden cloak. It was getting rather tattered and grubby around the hem.

"Can you do something with it?" Caelia asked. Mrs Beaver paused.

"Well, you said you wanted to be camouflaged," she said slowly. "Gold is beautiful but it really does stand out against the white snow."

"Please. That cloak reminds me who I am and what I am fighting for. It is the only possession I have left from my homeworld," Caelia said.

"I'll see what I can do," the beaver said, nodding, and retreated back inside.

Caelia turned back. The sooner her new clothes were done the better. She wanted to get as far away from Jadis and Lilith as possible but she had spent the last week simply recovering from all she had been through so far. Mrs Beaver had occupied herself making new, warmer clothes for her and Mr Beaver had nursed his beer and muttered about how she would have them all killed or worse.

She had to find the Pevensies, that much was obvious, but she had no idea where to look. Ten years had passed. Who could know where they were? Were they even alive? She felt so alone and vulnerable. When the time came to leave, which direction should she set out in? Would the path she took even lead her to a Pevensie.

Wait, there was always someone who saw everything. Her head shot up. She knew exactly who to ask.

She crawled forward slightly and drew a large circle in the snow. As she sat back on her knees and dusted her hands off, she hesitated. Who would be watching? Who was present at this point in Narnian history? Oh well, she would just have to try.

_"Ramandu, Coriakin, Tarva, Alambil," _she said shakily. _"Sovereigns of the skies and guardians of Narnia, help me seek that which I look for. In the name of Aslan, give me some clue to the location of the Pevensies."_

She turned her face towards the stars of the night sky and settled down to wait.

* * *

In a high chamber of Jadis' Palace lay a great bed. It was almost eight feet tall and almost as wide. The wooden frame was made from oak, the oak from the tree of a dryad who had opposed Jadis very vocally, and the dark blue drapes were heavy and intricately decorated. Jadis pulled one back now and surveyed the figure lying in the bed.

Lucifer slept as soundly as ever. He had been sleeping for every second of these past ten years.

The Spell they had woven had held power unlike anything Jadis had ever felt before. It had hurled them from Hell into Narnia through a maelstrom of noise and light; the pressure crushing them mercilessly and every second feeling like it lasted a lifetime. Upon crashing into Narnia, Lucifer had collapsed almost instantly and it had taken the combined efforts of both Lilith and Jadis to stabilise him and keep him alive.

To Jadis' delight, the Spell had taken them back to when she was still Queen. The Pevensie brats had run straight into her hands. The younger two had escaped with the faun, Tumnus, but the elder two remained hers. She had dealt with them appropriately.

Her eyes ran again over Lucifer's perfectly sculpted features. The Four were dealt with and there was no sign of Aslan. All they need was for Lucifer to awaken and then the next stage of their plan could be put into action.

"Have patience," Lilith said from the doorway.

Jadis turned. "How much longer?" she asked.

"I do not know," Lilith admitted. "The nature of his exhaustion is tricky. He could need another minute of rest or another century. All we can do is wait."

"I pray it is closer to a minute than a century," Jadis said quietly.

She left the great bed and the two walked down into the depths of the Palace. They entered the Dining Hall and separated; Jadis sat in her chair at the head of the table of ice so polished it resembled glass while Lilith made her way towards one of the many statues that lined the walls. She entwined herself around it and ran a finger down the nose of the frozen figure.

"Unfreeze him for me. Just for an hour. I want to play with him so," she begged.

"I thought you were married," Jadis said coldly.

"I am. It does not mean I have to be faithful; my husband certainly has not been to me," she replied coyly. Jadis turned her head to glare at her but her eyes widened instead. She rarely bothered to look at the statues, after all they weren't going anywhere, but this was not the same as when she had frozen it. She stood and hurried over to it.

"He's aged!" she exclaimed.

"Ah," Lilith said a little guiltily. "That was me. He was such a gorgeous boy; I simply had to know what he would look like as he aged. Isn't he handsome now?"

Jadis laid a hand on the cold stone.

"You have weakened the spell," she said crossly. "This sort of meddling is unnatural."

"More unnatural than turning a living body into stone in the first place? So what?"

"So Caelia _might_ be able to break it."

"Caelia? She barely escaped from here with her life; she has no allies, no friends. I cannot foresee a daring rescue any time soon," Lilith replied drily.

Jadis smirked and regarded the statue again. "You are right, you know," she said. "He has a very _kingly_ face."

They both burst into laughter and left him alone in the high window. Unlike most of the statues in the Palace, he was not caught in the act of cowering or trying to avoid his inevitable fate. He stood tall, his shoulders drooping slightly in defeat and his face turned up and away. His unseeing eyes looked out at the stars in the night sky. A snowflake drifted down and slid down his stone cheek and, for the briefest of moments, it looked as if Peter Pevensie was crying.

* * *

Far to the north lay the city of the giants. They had an understanding with the Queen of Narnia in her icy palace and her dark-haired advisor. They would swear fealty to her and provide her with soldiers if she needed them and, in turn, she would leave them be.

They had every reason to honour this agreement. After all, she had given them such a gift. Such a wonderful gift.

Tonight, they feasted. A tremendous hunt had been had. Talking Beasts of all kinds had been captured and roasted slowly all day long. The giants did not care what meat they ate as long as it was well-cooked and accompanied by plenty of gravy, bread and mead.

The laden platters had been brought from the kitchens and the mead was flowing freely. The noise of the feasting and merry-making rose right to the rafters and echoed through every passageway and corridor of the city, accompanied by the screeching of fiddles and the wailing of pipes. The giants certainly knew how to party.

"Olag!" the King of the Giants roared. He swayed on his throne and waved his tankard in the air, slopping half its contents over himself and the Queen.

"Olag! Where is my huntsman?" he bellowed again. A squat figure, shorter and more rotund than the average giant, freed itself from the mess and staggered towards the High Table.

"Aye, sire?" he slurred, swaying slightly on his feet.

"A fine feast! I must thank you, Olag, we have not eaten so well in an age!" the King said a little blearily.

"You have our little huntress to thank for that," Olag replied. The King began to nod and let fly a tremendous belch.

"Take her some of that chatterbox stag as a treat," he said, raising his tankard to quaff the little left inside.

Carrying a platter, Olag left the heat and hustle and bustle of the main hall. He paused for a moment and tasted the cold, crisp night air. Drink and merriment were all well and good but a few blasts of night air did wonders for sobering up. Feeling mightily better than he did before, he set off in the direction of the pens.

As he entered, the hounds went mad and threw themselves at the bars of their cages but he ignored them all. This meat wasn't for them.

By the very last cage he crouched down.

"Where are you, my sweet?" he crooned. "Have I got a treat for you. Come on, gorgeous girl, where are you?"

There was a scuffling in the darkness and a pair of bright blue eyes appeared. They blinked and focused on the platter.

"That's right, lovely meat for our clever girl," he said, offering up a slab of venison. The eyes edged closer. A slim white hand shot through the bars and tugged the meat off him. He laughed and threw the other hunks into the bowl by the bars before returning to the feast.

The dogs eventually quietened down and the only sounds to be heard in the pens was the chewings and suckings of the girl enjoying her meat.

As her teeth tore through the last piece, she edged towards the bars again. The moonlight caught her matted hair, her slim but muscular limbs and the many bruises and cuts across her pale skin.

The wild girl who once went by the name of Susan Pevensie raised her blue eyes to the stars in the night sky and wondered when she would next be allowed to run beneath the sun.

* * *

To the west lay an anomaly. This small network of canyons was in neither the Western reaches of Narnia nor the arid mountains of Telmar and the weather would flip between each with little warning. One day it would be hit by wild snowstorms then next it would be scorching hot. The area was rough enough as it was; a land of jagged rocks and ravines that suddenly appeared and plummeted down before you. A land of rough scrub and fearsome cacti where the only animals to survive did so by bloodthirsty basic instinct.

The cruel and unforgiving landscape was not just home to animals but small groups of men. Exiles mostly; criminals of Calormen and Archenland with a few people running from the harshness of Telmar, all caught in this unforgiving bit of land.

They were outlaws; they were criminals; they were mercenaries; they demanded respect above all else. There were plenty of villages and holdings on the outskirts of Telmar to raid for supplies. Nobody wanted to risk the run into Narnia. When a power can keep control of a country for over a century, one did not mess with that power. Occasionally one heard of somebody stupid to try to dive into Narnia for supplies. Either they fell afoul of the Witch or they fell afoul of another. A beautiful, dark-haired creature who seduced them and ensnared them and then they were never heard from again.

The message was clear; stay out of Narnia.

One canyon that lay to the north-west of the network appeared to be completely devoid of life. Yet, if one was to sit still for long enough, small snatches of movement would become discernible. Tiny trickles of sand falling, rocks dislodging and tumbling down below.

Suddenly the illusion was broken. Someone slipped and fell down a long slope of gravel and landed in a heap at the bottom. He coughed and disentangled himself from his sandy-coloured cloak; his camouflage against the environment.

"You idiot!" a voice roared. The tumbler's leader glared down at him lying flat on his back. The line of men appeared against the hills as they turned and stared at him. One left the line and staggered down the hill towards him.

"Here," he said, holding out a hand to his fallen comrade.

"Sorry. It's harder going than I thought it would be," he replied, accepting the hand up. He was new to their merry band; an exile of Telmar who had fled after all the recent turmoil. Needless to say, he had not got very far.

"It gets easier," his helped assured him, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight. They began the long climb back towards the line. It was hard; slipping on the gravel and sliding back a foot for every few they covered.

"Hurry up!" their leader roared from his position at the head of the column.

"Yes, sir!" the helper shouted in answer and doubled his efforts.

"Is he always so grumpy?" the faller panted. His companion grinned again.

"He may seem harsh but he knows what he's doing. Stick with him and you'll be fine; the Hunter keeps his own safe."

"So I did join the right band then. I'm Seb," the faller said, holding out a hand.

"Edmund," the helper replied, shaking it. They reached the column again; Seb joined the line and the other moved back to the front.

"Sorry, sir. The new recruit is still a bit rocky on his feet," he reported. The Hunter nodded and began to tread up the path again. The faun who had been following close behind him winked at the young man with his one good eye and then continued after their leader.

The young man known only as Edmund, for Pevensie had long been forsaken, turned and gazed back down the line and out into the canyon. Slowly, his eyes lifted to the stars in the night sky and his mind turned from the group of bandits he called brothers to the one he still called sister.

* * *

The Calormene evenings were glorious. After the intense heat of the day, the cool of the night spread over the country as a welcome relief. The capital city of Tashbaan was settling down for the evening. The shops and bazaars had closed down for the day and the merchants were gathered inside their homes counting their gold.

But one kind of business was still flourishing.

From the outside, the house looked like any other on the affluent street. Inside, however, was a completely different story. The girls who lived here provided a very specific service; one abhorred by most cultures but very much part of life in Calormen. This house in particular was very popular with the upper levels of society. Its girls were beautiful and they knew their craft exceptionally well.

But tonight, the usual incense-laden peace was disturbed.

The screams of a woman in the final stages of labour tore through the house. The Tarkaan and his son jumped as it burst into their small room. The madam of the brothel languishing on the cushions opposite them did not bat a kohl-lined eyelid.

"An unavoidable hazard of our work," she said smoothly to her customers. "When a girl sells her body she always runs the risk of becoming with child."

The Tarkaan nodded, his face slightly green as the girl screamed again, but his son looked outraged.

"Why can't she be quiet?" he demanded in the whining, nasal tone of the spoilt. "Make her stop."

Her violet eyes flickered to him. He didn't appreciate her cool stare. By Tash, he was the eldest son of a Tarkaan and she should be grateful to receive his custom!

"Young lord, that girl is in more pain than you could possibly imagine. She will stop soon," she said coldly.

Sure enough, the cries of pain soon ceased only to be replaced with the wails of a newborn.

Another girl stuck her head around the doorframe. Her brown hair was tied off her face in a simple ponytail and, like the madam, she was not a native of Calormen. The blood staining her white shirt and hands stood testament to the role she had played in the birth.

"Grandmother?" she asked and the madam inclined her head. The girl stepped into the room and nodded respectfully towards the Tarkaan, wrinkling her nose at his son's slack-jawed stare.

"It's a girl and both mother and baby are fine," she reported. The madam nodded and excused her. She grimaced as she felt the son's eyes follow her out.

"I want her!" he said to his father the minute she had vanished.

"No. She is not for sale," the madam said.

"But I want her!"

His voice took on a slight whining edge like a little child as he pleaded with both her and his father.

"No," the madam repeated. "Her maidenhood is being saved for as a gift for Prince Rabadash when he becomes the Tisroc. If you lay a finger upon her then I will personally ensure that you will not leave this house a man."

He opened his mouth again to argue but his father had laid a hand across his arm.

"There are others just as beautiful as her," he snapped before inclining his head towards the madam. "Thank you for your hospitality, Madame Applewood. My son shall make his selection now."

She inclined her head in return.

"The pleasure is all mine, my Lord Tarkaan. I hope your son enjoys his experience here and I hope you will grace our establishment again soon," she replied formally.

When they had left, she stood and poured herself a glass of red wine from the earthenware jug on the side.

She had no intention of giving the one she called granddaughter to Rabadash. It was merely a good excuse to keep her pure and away from some of the kind who made regular use of the house's services.

In one she downed the wine, grimacing as the alcohol burned her throat.

How much longer would they have to wait here? Where was her husband and where was the younger Pevensie boy? Where were the Emperor's Folk to help them out of this dreadful mess!

The young midwife finished washing her hands in a marble basin and changed into a clean linen shirt. Feeling mightily fresher than she had for a few hours, she made her way to the courtyard in the centre of the house. In one corner, a trellis stretched the entire height of the house. Avoiding the sharp thorns of the roses, she climbed up and scrambled onto the wide flat roof, still hot from the heat of the day. She let herself fall backwards with a sigh.

Grandmother never let her do anything. She did not want to be like the other girls, not in the slightest, but she didn't like being cooped up in the house like a trapped bird. She wanted to fly. She wanted to see more of Tashbaan than the view from this rooftop. She wanted all this and more so very much.

She raised her hand and traced a constellation shining above her while her mind turned to her brother.

Lucy Pevensie smiled and wondered if Edmund was also gazing at the stars in the night sky; wherever he happened to be.

* * *

Caelia jerked awake suddenly. She must have dozed off. She staggered to her feet and looked up, just to see if there was an answer.

To the west, Coriakin shone low on the horizon. Telmar? To the south, Ramandu glowed his serene blue. Calormen? To the north, Alambil sparkled over the mountains. The giants, possibly? And almost directly over her, Tarva glowed a deep and fearsome red. Jadis' Palace.

It wasn't much; but she had a start. She would head West and see who or what she could find.


	5. Blackened and Burned

_A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step ~ _Lao Tzu

* * *

"When is she going to leave?" Mr Beaver growled. Mrs Beaver glanced across the room to where Caelia was sitting cramped over a map. She had been scribbling wildly on a stray piece of parchment for some hours, her bright blue eyes constantly flicking across the map. Mrs Beaver had no idea how to read the alphabet she was using but it clearly made sense to her. Every now and then, she would lay down her pen and read over her notes again with a furrowed brow.

Mrs Beaver frowned and rethreaded her needle. "She will leave when she wants to," she told her husband firmly. "She is almost recovered and I have almost finished her new clothes."

"The longer she stays here, the more dangerous it is for us!" he hissed, leaning across the table. The scratching from the corner of the room paused momentarily and then continued. Mrs Beaver glared at him.

"Stop," she said in a low voice. "You have done nothing but complain. She is trying to help!"

He sat back in the shadows, his eyes glinting in the semi-darkness of the dam. "If you say so," he said quietly.

* * *

Caelia sat huddled in her corner. She scanned her notes again. Just to be safe, she was making them in Old Charnish. It was her mother-tongue and only her and Jadis could read it now. And she intended that Jadis would never see these plans, meaning she was the only one who could read them.

She could feel Mr Beaver's eyes on her again and her heart sunk. It depressed her to see someone she knew to be so cheery so affected by the evil wrought by her sister. If this was Mr Beaver, what were the others like? Was Oreius cowering somewhere alone and afraid? Was Cor still the slave-boy Shasta? She had to leave the relative safety of the dam but she was so scared to. What else was she going to find out there...

There was a gentile cough and she looked up into Mrs Beaver's smiling face. The beaver held out her finished cloak. It was a pure, stark white that, like her new dress, would blend into the snowy background and help protect her from unsafe eyes. The inside lining, however, was her old cloak of gold that had been made for her so long ago in Charn.

"Thank you," she said, taking it and rubbing her fingers through the material. "It's beautiful."

Mrs Beaver beamed and half-bobbed a curtsey. "It was no trouble, dear," she said brightly.

Caelia looked down at the map and bit her lip. The heavy weight sitting on her chest pulled down again with a horrific tug.

"No. It has been a trouble. I have put you in so much danger and it is all so unnecessary," she said quietly.

Mrs Beaver laid a paw on her hand. "You keep saying things like that. This isn't your fault; it is just the way things are. This is our life."

Tears welled in Caelia's eyes and she grabbed Mrs Beaver into a tight hug.

"No, it's not how things are supposed to be!" she wept and sat back. Both beavers were looking at her now with slight fear and insecurity. She brushed her tears away with trembling hands and took a deep breath.

"Dearest and best of Beavers... this isn't your life. I know a different Narnia and a different life for you. A life where you saved the Pevensies and you took them to the Great Lion and my sister's winter was broken. They became Kings and Queens and everyone loved them. Oh, how they were loved! They were good and they were great and they led Narnia into a glorious Golden Age; if only you could see it! And instead you have to endure this! Jadis is still Queen and Aslan is missing and who knows what could have happened to those poor children! It doesn't bear thinking about!"

She broke off into a series of choking sobs and buried her face in her hands. "I am so, so sorry that this has happened to you. You two are simply the dearest beings I have ever known of and that life has been taken from you and you have been reduced to this!"

She once again broke down and sat hiccupping and wiping her tears away. The Beavers said nothing. They just sat there, staring at her. She took another deep breath and swept the cloak onto her shoulders.

"Thank you for your hospitality but I think I have outstayed my welcome," she said in a calm voice. "I'm going to go now. Hopefully I will find the Pevensies somewhere on my journey and then I can right this horrible wrong."

They still said nothing. She bowed her head and gathered her few things with their eyes still upon her.

"Goodbye," she said and moved towards the door of the dam.

"What you said..." Mr Beaver said from behind her. She paused and half-turned. "Is it true?" he asked.

"I swear in the name of the Lion," she replied and left the tiny house.

The Beavers sat in silence for a moment. Slowly, Mr Beaver pushed his tankard towards his wife.

"Get rid of it," he said. "All of it. I haven't got the stomach for it anymore."

She accepted the tankard quickly and stood up to dispose of it. As the brown liquid gushed down the drain, she smiled to herself. Her thanks went out to that mysterious woman now setting off into the woods. If this was but a fraction of what Caelia would achieve then her being in Narnia would be one of the best things to happen for a very long time.

* * *

Caelia made her slow way West. It seemed the best to her; to go North would mean passing by Jadis and Lilith and she had no idea if the sign from Ramandu signified Archenland, Calormen or somewhere even further South.

She sat on a rock and uncorked the water skin Mrs Beaver had given her. Swigging greedily, she looked around the woods. There was a crack from above her and she looked up sharply.

"_Witch Spy! Witch Spy!"_ the Raven above her screeched. She stood quickly and walked away but it swooped after her. "_Witch Spy! Witch Spy!"_

This kept happening. Every time a Narnian got a look at her face it would start to scream and wail or bolt in the opposite direction to her. Once, a very long time ago, she was praised for her resemblance to Jadis. They were the two beautiful jewels of the Royal court of Charn, beloved by all. Now her face was a hindrance. If this was how the common Narnians reacted to her, how was she supposed to approach the Pevensies? Hello, I know I look like your worst enemy and the one who wants to kill you but I'm really nice, can we be friends? Hardly tactful.

"_Witch Spy!"_

She turned on her heel and fixed her best glare upon the Raven.

"Master Raven, I do not want to hurt you. Leave me alone!" she said, drawing herself to her full height. The Raven perched on a branch and cocked his head to one side.

"_Witch Spy!_" he cawed at her. She threw a hand out and gathered what was left of her Will. There was a crack and a small puff of black feathers and the Raven flew off, still cackling and cawing madly. She looked down at her hands. Pale white skin, long fingers, the same as ever. And yet they refused to work as they used to. Her Will was definitely depleted.

She set off again through the trees with a sigh. How long had it been since she left the Beavers? Two or three days maybe? She had to be reaching the Western Escarpment soon, where the ground rose suddenly and twisted into a maze of canyons that bordered Narnia and Telmar. The trees were still growing as thick as ever here although the ground was now sloping gently upwards.

Her foot slipped on some snow and she skidded down the next small hill. She crashed into the stream bank at the bottom with a torrent of curses. Thankfully her new dress from Mrs Beaver was incredibly well-made. The snow just brushed off easily as she sat up and pouted angrily.

The snow that had dusted the frozen surface of the stream had been disturbed. Caelia could see her own bright blue eyes reflected in the ice. Suddenly they sharpened and glimmered at her. A dry chuckle echoed around the dell. She scooted backwards rapidly.

Nothing.

She moved forwards and peered into the ice but all she saw was her own eyes, wide and frightened.

"_Witch Spy, Witch Spy, Witch Spy!"_ voices cried. She scrambled to her feet as the Ravens appeared on the branches all around her. They flapped and screeched at her but none seemed to be willing to attack her.

"Stand down!" she commanded, hiding her shaking hands in the folds of her dress. They stopped and glared at her. One bedraggled fellow jumped forward onto a branch near her and met her gaze.

"We don't take orders from a Witch Spy!" he cawed and the others took up the call again. She took a few nervous steps back and then turned and fled as they hopped towards her.

The flapping and cawing that followed in her wake terrified her. It felt like every bird in the whole of Narnia was after her and, when she glanced over her shoulder, all she could see was a swirling mass of black feathers and claws tearing along behind her.

She burst through the tree line and almost fell to her knees as the ground sloped suddenly upwards. Up and up she scrambled and tore between a pair of ornate golden gateposts that appeared suddenly out of the hillside.

The carnage behind her ceased and she slowed. Carefully, she turned. The Ravens were all sitting on the ground right outside the gate posts, eyeing her beadily. The bedraggled leader hopped forwards and cocked his head to one side.

"You are lucky, Witch Spy, for where you have gone we dare not tread! That place is both a curse and a blessing! It shall do you no good to set foot there!" he cawed. She shifted her weight slightly and drew herself upright with a sneer.

"Is this what has become of the Narnian Ravens?" she declared. "You were proud birds once, the Masters of Lore and Wisdom, and now you are little more than pests who chase those who would help you."

"We have no use for help from Witch Spies!" the Raven cried with a flap of his wings. This was getting tiresome. One more proclamation of her apparent espionage and she was going to lose it.

"I am no spy of Jadis!" she said hotly.

"You know her by name, you share her face, you walk easily upon ground that is both hallowed and forbidden," the Raven said. "What manner of creature are you?"

She bit her lip. "I'm trying to help," she said insisted.

"That place will not aid you, whatever it is you seek!" the Raven called as she turned to move further into the structure. "You shall find no peace there, only temptation and misery!"

She ignored him and left them squawking and leaping around. Not a single one wanted to venture within the golden gates.

* * *

The garden, for it was a garden, was dead. Caelia had never seen anything so desolate. She walked between the trees and bushes, her fingers trailing over the dry and dusty leaves, until she reached the centre.

There had once been a large and beautiful tree here. Nestled in the yellowing grass poking through the snow around her were branches and apples of silver so she supposed that the tree itself was once silver. It was now blackened and broken. The trunk had been split almost directly in half down the middle, as if it had been struck by lightning, and the entire left side now sagged sideways like it would fall at any moment.

She sat on a stump and stared at the tree. What was this place?

Her fingers fell against her satchel. Something was warm inside; she could feel it through the cloth. She dug a hand in and closed upon the velvet bag Metatron had thrust in her hands before she left. She pulled it out now and wormed her fingers inside.

_Zzzp!_

With a yelp, she retracted her hand. The ends of her fingers were burnt. She frowned. Only one thing she knew could cause a burn like that. She held out the bag and focused the last of her trembling Will.

The Adamantine Sphere slowly rose from the velvet bag.

"_About time!"_ Metatron's peevish voice boomed in her mind.

"The Sphere?! How did you get it? Wasn't it destroyed in the destruction of Charn?" she asked, causing it to rotate slowly in her palms.

"_The Sphere of the First King was. This is a copy I fashioned and archived. I can't leave the Library but I can use a conduit to talk to you and I thought this was appropriate. What is the situation?"_

She recounted her tale so far. He was especially quiet when she described the other four trapped in the trees. As she finished, he sighed wearily.

"_My poor brothers. And Narnia too. You must stay strong, Caelia. Are you safe? Are you well?"_

"I think so. I don't know where I am but I think it is safe."

"_Hold the Sphere a little higher and let me see," _he told her. She pushed with her Will and the Sphere levitated away slightly. A small moan echoed in her mind.

"_He likes to start with a garden..._" Metatron said forlornly.

She stared around. "This is the Garden of Youth?"

"_Was. Was the Garden of Youth. It has been burned."_

His tone was so sad and bitter. She leant down and picked up one of the silver apples that lay in the dry grass. So this was where Digory and Jadis had come at the birth of Narnia. These were the apples Jadis had consumed and Digory retrieved for Aslan. She could see why her sister had succumbed to them. Even just sitting in her hand it was tempting her. Its flesh was crisp and the scent so sweet...

"_Put it down, Caelia," _Metatron said sternly. "_Remember what it did to Jadis."_

She ignored him and lifted it a little closer. Jadis had once had dark hair like hers. Smooth, dark waves of hair that flowed down to her mid-back. Since eating the apple, her hair had been ash-blonde. The apple had sucked all the colour from her and frozen the last tiny piece of warmth in her heart. If Caelia ate the apple, would the same happen to her? Would her hair become blonde and her heart a shard of ice? Or would she become strong?

The apple had helped Digory's mother. It had restored her to health. Maybe it could restore her Will as well.

"_Caelia!"_ Metatron shouted as the apple neared her lips.

That strange dry giggle rang out again. The apple fell to the ground with a thud as she shot to her feet and looked around wildly.

"_Caelia! I can't believe you could be so bloody stupid! Those apples are not meant to be touched by anyone!" _Metatron was almost screeching but she wasn't listening. Her head turned this way and that as she peered between the dead trees.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

"_... Hear what."_

"I... I guess it was nothing," she said.

A wave of dizziness swept over her and she sat down heavily with a groan.

"_What now?! I thought you said you were fine!"_

She took a deep breath and rested her head between her knees.

"It's my Will. Ever since the tremor, something has been wrong with it. It's not as strong as it used to be and it is getting difficult to keep focused on you and the Sphere."

She felt his touch probe at the edge of her mind. He cursed.

"_Then we must cut this short. Find a way to ease your Will and we shall talk again soon."_

"Wait, one more thing!" she said. "Michael told me to seek the Firsts. Who are they? Does he mean Frank and Helen? I thought they were long dead."

There was a dangerous silence.

"_Why on earth would he tell you such a thing,_" Metatron said darkly. "_Stay away from them, child. Do not seek them out and do not accept their help. It will do you no good."_

And then he was gone. The Sphere dropped neatly back into its pouch. She sat for a while on the ground, shaking and shivering, until her strength returned. Find a way to ease her Will? And she was no closer to finding the Firsts, whoever or whatever they were. Michael said find them; Metatron said keep away. How was she supposed to know what to do!

Her eyes fell on one of the long silver branches from the Tree of Youth that lay unburned upon the ground. A memory flitted into her mind's eye; a memory of a place and time far away and a long time ago. A memory of two Princesses studying hard in the Guild of Magicians...

A wand can be used to direct the flow of magic much in the same way pointing a finger will be more direct than a spread hand. A wand will also amplify the user's Will and make any incantations they cast much stronger than their natural abilities.

* * *

**I really like quotes and proverbs from Asia. Well, I like proverbs anyway, but I really like the ones from Asia for some reason. The one I used at the beginning is quite a famous quote that I liked since Caelia was so slow to take her first steps on the journey.**

**In other news, I am now settled in uni and enjoying every minute of it (even the 20-minute walk to the uni from my halls that I did in torrential rain today... oh yeeaaaah) and I tend to have about an hour each evening before I go to bed where I can unwind from the buzz of the day and write. Chapters are going to be slow but hopefully they won't stop, although I will have to pull right back if I have exams for obvious reasons. Thank you so much for your patience with me, guys, and I hope you enjoy each chapter as it comes out! :D**


	6. Into The Dark

_We must not look at goblin men,_  
_We must not buy their fruits:_  
_Who knows upon what soil they fed_  
_Their hungry thirsty roots?  
~ _Christina Rossetti

* * *

It was more of a staff than a wand. Caelia liked it that way; it would be easier to walk with and she could lean on it when tired. Carving it had been difficult but she had found a little pen-knife in her satchel, presumably slipped in there by Mrs Beaver, and spent some time making small runes of strength and protection around each end. It wasn't as beautiful or as ornate as Jadis' but it fitted nicely into her hand. It felt right.

She stood in a corner of the Garden with the staff between her palms and her eyes shut. Her lessons on wandlore from all those years ago passed through her mind and she slowly let her Will flow through her hands into the staff. The wood warmed under her touch.

Suddenly she brought it around and pointed it at a blackened stump some feet away. It erupted into flames that shot skyward with a snap. The staff moved again and a broken urn was hurled further into the depths of the Garden. A pile of decaying leaves exploded into the air; a dead tree was sent crashing down and Caelia took a deep breath as, finally, she felt her strength return. It was a risk to bear a wand but it was a risk worth taking.

She had power again.

* * *

Narnia did not seem quite so threatening when she left the gates of the Garden again but maybe it was just the rush of adrenaline that her newly rediscovered power had brought her. No shadow made her flinch and no cold breath of air made the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she walked beneath the trees.

A crack made her look round; the staff spinning out defensively.

The bedraggled leader of the Ravens ruffled his feathers as he made himself comfortable on the branch. His black eyes narrowed and glared at her.

"I see you have found your blessing and your curse," he said civilly. She flicked the staff away and held it close across her body.

"I have found a blessing. I am strong again," she said curtly. "I have no curse."

His head tipped to one side and it took everything within her to keep her calm demeanour in the face of his scrutiny.

"You better move quickly. She is gaining on you," he said.

A cold sweat broke out on her skin. How could Lilith and Jadis know where she was? The Ravens weren't on her sister's side. They had made that quite clear. All the other Narnians bolted in the opposite direction when they saw her. Who could have told them?

"What are you talking about? Who is gaining on me?" she stammered.

The Raven's feathers fluffed up and he made an odd bubbling chuckle.

"You do not know who pursues you?" he asked. "That is a curse right there. Two curses, dear oh dear. Better run quickly; she is closing in on you."

"Who?" she demanded.

He chuckled again and took wing; leaving her baffled and frightened. Her fingers tightened around her staff. She was fine. She was weak no more for as long as this staff lay within her grasp.

She was fine.

She had power again.

* * *

The glade was quiet. Very quiet. The trees twisted up from the forest floor and formed a tightly knitted canopy of branches. This helped to keep the snow off the floor. It wasn't nearly as damp as the others in the area and it would do for a place for Caelia to sleep for the night. She sat against a hollow in one of the trees and gathered the cloak against her; her bag and staff nestled in her lap.

With her hood pulled low over her head and the cloak draped over her dress, she looked almost like a snow drift. Yet it wasn't a perfect deception and hidden eyes had watched her settle down.

Across the glade was a small circle of toadstools. Their shadows began to stretch towards her feet as night drew in.

Just as her head began to nod, a crack appeared in the tree behind the largest of the toadstools. Yellow light spilled across the leafy ground. Caelia's ears twitched as a low susurrus of whispers reached her ears. Beneath the cloak, her hand tightened around the staff.

She peeked out through her eyelashes as the crack in the tree widened and a shadow emerged out into the glade. There were some clicks and a few odd puffs. And then the melody started.

It was unlike anything she had ever heard before. It twisted around her and caught her in its embrace; caressing her and stroking away her worries. Her entire form went limp. With horror, she felt her fingers begin to uncurl. She lashed out with her Will and there was a crash. The music didn't even falter. She tried to scramble to her feet and run but her boot caught in the folds of her cloak and she sprawled on the ground.

The melody soothed her quivering form and, as the last few notes drifted off into the evening air, Caelia found herself entering a deep sleep.

A pair of grey hands wormed around her ankles and pulled. Slowly she was dragged towards the gap in the tree trunk. A fervent whispered discussion was held just beyond the doorway and then her body was yanked down into the depths of the tree. The gap in the trunk snapped shut. The only sign that someone had ever been in the glade were some piles of scuffed leaves.

Her body was slowly pulled down into the depths of the earth. The passageway was rough and stony. Debris clung to her face and dress as she was dragged. The bare earthen walls had weak lanterns strung every few feet that barely brought any light to the tunnel. What brought more light were the clumps of toadstools and fungi that glowed eerily in the twilight.

Eventually the tunnel levelled out. In the distance a faint green glow appeared. Caelia's prone form was dragged into a much larger hollowed-out space filled with these glowing fungi.

"My, what have you brought me my darlings?" a voice sang from the other side of the cavern. There were some mumblings from the door guardians.

"Wonderful!"

A figure skipped across the cavern and skidded to a halt by her body. A grey hand with raggedy, yellowing nails stroked Caelia's face almost tenderly.

"Intriguing. See the resemblance, my sweets? Oh, this one we shall hold on to. How fun!"

Her ankles were grasped again as the strange beings prepared to drag her away. As she was shifted, her cloak opened and her beautiful staff of silver apple wood rolled across the floor.

"Oooh!"

The hand with the raggedy nails quickly picked up the staff and a pair of glittering black eyes examined it closely.

"Ooh, how pretty! How delightful! Ooh, we have a budding Witch in our care, my poppets!"

The figure turned and walked back across the cavern, still holding onto the staff.

"I think I shall look after this. Put her with the others, dearies, and we shall talk later."

As Caelia was once again moved away, the figure spun on one foot and twirled the staff impressively.

"Someone send a message to our beautiful Queen and her scrumptious friend," he added, the black eyes flashing maliciously in the glow of the fungi. "I think they should know about our little Witchy friend."

* * *

Dark.

Dark and damp.

That was what greeted Caelia's senses as she awoke. She was lying on what felt like damp moss. She blinked a few times and her eyes adjusted to the small amount of light coming from the faintly glowing toadstools in a corner. The room was oddly hollowed out with shadows in every corner. The earthen walls were damp and horrible and the air frightfully still and stuffy.

Her eyes made out a small clay bowl of what looked like fruit by the wooden door. She edged towards it, her mouth watering.

"I wouldn't if I were you," a mild voice said out of the darkness. "They drug it. Keeps us sedate and serene."

"What do you suggest we do instead, Larkin? There is no other food; unless you want to take a chomp out of the pony," another voice said. There was an irate whinny in reply.

"You try and I'll make your head ring for a month," a third voice snapped. "And I'm not a pony; I'm a stallion of the Herd."

"We know," the second voice said drily. "You remind us every day."

She leaned forward and squinted. She could just about make out three shapes of various sizes huddled in dark corners of the room. "Who are you?" she asked shakily.

"Just three bums who happened to fall afoul of the People of the Toadstools," the second voice answered. "Welcome to our merry abode."

"Charming. If you can't make a proper introduction then I will. That little ray of sunshine is Tiristor, a Son of Earth. I am Larkin the faun and our other friend is a Talking Horse by the name of Brutus," the first voice, from the shape nearest Caelia, added.

"My name is Caelia," she said, groping around for her belongings. Her bag was still there but her staff she couldn't feel at all. Panic flooded through her. "Can... is... do you know if they threw my walking stick in with me?" she asked. Better not mention it to be a staff.

There was a derisive whinny from the large black shadow on the far side of the room.

"A walking stick? Are you lame?" Brutus snorted.

"No. I'm just a traveller who has a very long way to go," she said.

"Well, you are stuck now, Princess," Tiristor muttered. Fresh panic coursed through her. Princess? Why had he called her that? Did he somehow know who she was?

"Me, on the other hand," he was saying, "just has to wait until our esteemed Queen next visits this charming place. As soon as she sees that I, one of her beloved Black Dwarfs, is held captive... of course then she will set me free."

"You are a delusional idiot if you believe that," she said quietly. His shape shot to his feet and stormed across the dark room. She knew he was trying to be threatening but she was so tall and he so short that even sitting down like this she was taller than him. Had there been light then she almost certainly would have been making eye contact with him at least.

"How dare you sully the name of our Queen!" he snapped.

There was a sigh from the faun. The dwarf angrily rounded on him next.

"She has always been good to us Black Dwarfs!" he insisted. "Just because you fauns are all turned against her, calling her a Witch and such like! And you Talking Beasts are no better!"

"The Witch's companion hunted my Herd for sport!" Brutus said hotly. "I will never cower before her or the Witch and call them Queen!"

"Oh, we can argue cultural differences later!" Larkin said wearily. "We really aren't making the best impression on... Caelia, was it?"

There was a pause. Tiristor breathed out heavily and then sat down again with a thump. He muttered something indistinguishable.

"So... Caelia..." Larkin continued. "You say you are a traveller yet you also sound as if you have had a run-in with the Witch. You may as well tell us your story; we are going to be stuck here for some time."

He wanted to know her story, did he. A story that, if told in full, would take countless time to tell. Her childhood and the Fall of Charn were a good few hours long. Then came her deeds in the Emperor's service which spanned an even greater amount of time and then they finally came to this horrible mess. From one imprisonment to another; she bounced between them effortlessly. She had been in Narnia for almost a month and the Pevensies were still lost.

"I'm from a very faraway place; very, very faraway and long gone. I'm searching for some people but I'm not doing very well at that minute. I keep getting into trouble," she said. "But I know the Witch, or Jadis to give her her real name. I know her very well. And I know that when she finds out I am here she will come running. But it will be to kill me; not to set you free, Tiristor, or wipe out the last of your Herd, Brutus, or to terrorise you like she does with all fauns, Larkin. If anything she will leave you here to rot."

"How can you be so sure, Princess?" Tiristor asked but before she could answer, footsteps thumped up to the door. It flew open and all four winced as the bright light hit their eyes.

"Hey, Witchy, you awake? The King wants a word," a voice grunted from beyond the light.

She blinked a few times and held up a hand to shield her eyes from the light. Then she saw the three she had been imprisoned with.

First she saw Brutus. He was big, even for a Talking Horse, and powerfully built. His great legs were bound tightly, leaving him lying hopelessly on his side. His coat was as dark as night save for the patches of white on his nose and his forelegs. He was staring at her without blinking. She looked away and her eyes fell on Larkin.

Like all fauns, his face was boyish and good-natured. His sandy hair flopped into his blue eyes and his general unkemptness suggested that he had been stuck in this dank pit for some time. It was hard to tell exactly how old he was but his eyes had a haunted look to them, even more so as he too stared at her.

And finally she looked at Tiristor. Short and wide in stature with tangled black hair and an evil little face; he looked exactly like any Black Dwarf she would find under Jadis' service. Yet there was more in his gaze than the pure shock and horror she was receiving from the other two. His glare was shrouded; calculating. He didn't appear to be frightened by her.

As the guard with the light grunted again and she scrambled to her feet, a plan clicked into her mind. She would need help in her quest and these three might be the ones, if only she could get them to trust her.

The door swung shut behind her; once again plunging the three original occupants of the cell into darkness.

"Sycamores and holly," Larkin's voice said shakily out of the gloom. "Did you see her face?"

* * *

**Hello my lovelies, how have you been? I have been fabby and had many an adventure so far at uni.**

**The quote from the beginning of this chapter I originally heard on Doctor Who. 50th anniversary episode coming soon, yay!**

**Two side notes. Firstly, there is someone who is the spitting image of Skandar Keynes in my Physics lectures. It is rather funny, if a little bit creepy.**

**Secondly, I introduced my flatmate to the concept of slash fiction on the walk back to our flat. I think I traumatised him a bit. :P**

**See you next time! This chapter was very hard to write and I would lovey-love-love some feedback. Reviews do make me write faster and I appreciate them all so much! Toodle-pip!  
**


End file.
